The power of motherhood is what gripped me 10 years ago. A college student, 21 years old, and not yet a mother, I was shocked at the power of motherhood across cultures.

This organization was formed out of a deep desire and vision to see families remain together, combatting the orphan crisis from a preventative measure by empowering mothers to rise out of poverty. The power of motherhood was heartbreakingly visible in the urban orphanages filled with children whose mothers were alive and able to care for them, but simply did not have the finances to feed another mouth and clothe another body. That very power became re-directed in each of our life-skills training classes.

With babies strapped on backs with a fabric sling, mothers poured into our Chikondi Community Center ready to learn a skill and be reminded of the immense strength inside to keep their children in their homes, to see them grow up to live happy, healthy lives. Mothers breastfed hungry babies while guiding fabric through sewing machines. Mothers gave out a precious coin to a toddler to run to the corner shop for a snack. Mothers rocked heavy babies to sleep as they took notes about entrepreneurship and profit margin. Mothers cared for each other’s babies as they took turns ironing their latest design in the showroom.

For years, I witnessed this power but didn’t quite understand it. How could a woman sacrifice so much of their time, energy, and even bodies with no complaint?

What I didn’t understand was that these very babies were both the recipient and the fuel of their mothers’ power. Each stitch completed while feeding that baby gave life to the vision of this little one growing up to complete school and live a different life than his mom did. Each aching shoulder of carrying the heavy baby on her back was the sacrifice and contribution of the mother to provide meals on the table without lacking. While she learned and worked, her little one took notice. While she sacrificed much, she gained much in the secure feeling of empowerment and rising above the poverty that kept her captive for far too long.

Many people see my involvement with Clothed in Hope as an investment. Giving much through a commitment. But over the years I have truly seen this work as mutually beneficial and mutually transformative.

I stepped into Clothed in Hope as a far observer of motherhood. I then journeyed with these mothers in my own pursuit to become a mother, initially filled with deep loss and sorrow. As I shared my own grief of losing babies, other women shared their own stories of pain in lost little ones, or the grip of infertility and its cultural challenges. Once I had lost my own babies, the rocking, the snack time, the peek-a-boo, it all felt healing. Rather than another mundane task to complete, it felt purposed. That this was the gift of this community. That I, too, was tapping into the power of motherhood even in my waiting. Together we were modeling for these future world changers that hope is powerful, that joy is contagious, that community is necessary, and that love is life-giving. In the safe haven of our Chikondi Community Center, women were being changed through practical life skills, yes, but also with the fire and drive to pave a new path for the little ones who accompanied them day in and day out.

Years into CiH with layers of my own grief and anticipation, I became a mother. Carrying the sensitivity forged by the pain I experienced along the way, I felt a sense of comradery with the women of Clothed in Hope in a new way. I couldn’t equate my struggle with theirs, as we live on separate continents and were born into different circumstances, but I could start to appreciate the power of motherhood that is uniting across all cultures. In sorrow, in pain, in sacrifice, in really hard days, in profound moments of shaping a little one’s life forever.

Since starting Clothed in Hope, I have become a mom to two little boys. These boys know about the women in Zambia, and I look forward to the day that they’ll know these women’s stories of overcoming, of perseverance, of power. I love raising boys who are learning about life from these strong women, just as the many little ones have done while soaking in the room on the backs of their mothers.

And in just a few short weeks, I’ll become a mom to a little girl.

I’ll get to raise a girl to become a woman walking in the steps of these incredible women who have shaped me, taught me, challenged me, and shown me the immense power of motherhood. One that gives much, one that receives much. One that is utilized to better the world and inspire others. Whether or not my own girl chooses to become a mother one day, I am so grateful that she has this army of mothers who love her and can show her the diversity, complexity, and beauty of being a woman in a way that I’d never be able to on my own.

These weeks ahead preparing for my little girl to enter the world feel purposed and special. Like lighting a fire to begin passing the torch to the next generation of women who will change the world through both the mundane and the spectacular. Through showing up each day, putting in the work, giving much, getting much, and fueling the fire within.

I am grateful for the power of motherhood that has changed me over the last decade. I am grateful to learn from women who love deeply, live sacrificially, and shine so brightly for their benefit and for the sake of their children. Before I was a mother this power changed me, and as I walk in this new role of motherhood, it continues to each and every day.

I look forward to sharing the newest CiH woman with you once she has made her arrival. Thank you for walking this road with me, with the women in Zambia, in every season. We are all so very thankful for you.

With Chikondi (Love),
Amy
CiH Founder & Executive Director